Bioshock: This Damned Man
by Mister Odd
Summary: Booker has completed his adventure during INFINITE in Columbia but has now been ripped from his reality into a Dam that does not govern water, but the tides of all possible realities. There he is tasked by the Lutece Twins to seek out a self-proclaimed "Head of State" who, according to the twins, is attempting to merge all the realities into one State that he will rule.
_Bioshock:
This Damned Man_

 _by William Odd_

 _2015_

 _ **Part One**_

 _Did I remember to set an alarm?_

I awake to the roar of wind booming in my ears as I appear to be descending from an unknown height. Before my waking brain can begin to fathom where I possibly am, I feel a slender hand grip mine tightly, with strength the defies what I'd expect from its size. I look over and see Elizabeth is descending with me.  
"Booker! Stay awake!" She hollers at me. I can barely make out the words over the wind. Aside from her, all I can see is clouds. I don't remember falling off of anything. Was I knocked out? Where were we before this? Get your head straight Booker! How do we survive this?

I scream at Elizabeth "Open a tear!"

"You just came out of one!"

"Open a tear!" every instinct in me wants this to happen. I am not aware of what the tactic is. All I know is I need this tear opened by Elizabeth, bringing us to another reality. Elizabeth begins to oblige. The electric glow around her hands begin and in the very second she begins to widen them, an enormous shadow rushes past us. The gust it creates puts us both into a spin. I am raised up into the sky higher while Elizabeth continues to fall. We seem to be nearly a kilometre apart already due to our intense velocity.I lose sight of her form in the clouds. My vest is caught on the shadow. This shadow lets out an unmistakable roar. The mechanical groan of Elizabeth's Songbird. It is raising me back up to wherever I had come from.

 _Or WHEN you came from Booker..._

I can make out the tear. I see its fizzling edges amidst the clouds. I shrug until I manage to escape my vest and begin to fall again. I aim towards the hole; the opening to another reality. Elizabeth is no where in sight. The Songbird will likely pursue her. I fall towards the hole. I want to follow Elizabeth...but my instinct drives me to entering this gateway. There is no fighting it. There is no avoiding it. The Songbird roars again as I pass through the portal.

Before I black out I can make out bright lights. Bright lights in the form of letters. They seem to read: HAPPY NEW YEAR 1959. I enter into darkness.

 _Did I remember to set an alarm?_

 _ **Part Two**_

My eyes are not open. The air is thick and moist. Makes me think of the way some authors describe a tropical heatwave. This must be a dream. I've never been to a jungle. But there is something familiar in this air. A smell. A smell that is taking my memories to Dakota...

 _What is it?_

...to Wounded Knee. December. 1890.

 _What do you smell?_

It's death. My eyes are not open. I can smell it. I don't want to see it. I smell death in the air. It's repugnant. It smells like that day at Wounded Knee when I...we...killed those Indians.

 _Open your eyes._

There were so many reminders in Columbia. Comstock ensured that the entire community was reminded of their deaths. But the air there was fresh. Above the clouds. Here it stinks. I am in death. Am I dead? Is it me? Do I wreak of the deaths I caused?

 _Did I remember to set an alarm? It's time to wake up._

Why is the air so thick and moist?

 _It's time to wake up!_

I open my eyes. I'm indoors, surrounded by stone walls. They are damp. Everything is. I can feel it seeping from the floor into the back of my shirt as I lay on the ground. I sit upright. Where is my vest? That monster, the Songbird, has it. I look at the puddles on the ground. I see a pinkish glow reflecting in the one nearest to my feet. I look up to the source of this light. Gigantic illuminated lettering that says: HAPPY NEW YEAR 1959.  
A stand up as best I can. I don't seem to have any injuries. There are bodies, many of them. Some burned it seems. Others shot...and something else. They look as if they were operated on. Their faces have bandages. A couple are dressed in surgical uniforms. One is gripping a needle that is too cartoonishly large to be an actual medical device.

"I suppose nobody is ever truly accustomed with seeing death" says a male voice from direction I cannot determine.

"It always finds a way of presenting itself in new ways. Especially to a man such as yourself" says a female voice in a eerily similar tone and cadence to the man's. After hearing the two voices my memory identifies them as that of the Lutece Twins. I had been hearing them in my head. Possibly in my dreams. They round a corner in tandem.

"Welcome to Rapture, Booker" says Robert Lutece.

"Or at least a portion of it" adds Rosalind Lutece. The waltz that is their conversational method of trading off phrases continues.

"Yes, a more accurate greeting would be to Welcome you to the Dam."  
"Though neither greeting was truly inaccurate."

"Certainly not."

"Not exactly."

I go right in for explanations "Well neither tells me what this place is or how I got here. Where is Elizabeth? Did she make it through?"

"Elizabeth is alright" says Robert.

"YOUR Elizabeth is. Another, not as much" Rosalind corrects.

"Is she here?" I ask.

"Both are in fact. As well as a few of you."

"We are at a bit of a nexus point you see."

"I don't actually. All I see is a lot of death" I say, with my agitation becoming a bit more apparent.

"This portion is a part of Rapture. An underwater city that was the site of a substantial conflict."

"A person very much like yourself cleansed it of some very nasty villains."

"As you can see, they do have your knack for dispensing these types in elaborate fashions"

"In fact, it WAS you that did a number on a few."

"Another you that is."

I cannot tell what is hurting my head worse, the fall from unfathomable heights into an alternate dimension, or their chatter about it.

"But you've already come to the other side of your initial duties. Wiped away your debt, in a manner of speaking."

"You have the perfect set of skills to face the Head of State."

"I feel...fine?" I wonder out loud. I actually do feel fine.

"I can imagine you do. You have a wonderful calm about you."

"You are calm despite having descended from the sky into a avenue of dear, was that a tad melodramatic sounding?"

"Perhaps if he weren't also pursued by a giant mechanical bird, yes. But here we are."

"And here you are booker."

"Indeed."

I inspect my hands. They flare. At first like a flame, then what seems like feathers, then air pulses from them, the wind of which moves my hair slightly. Memories of Columbia come back to me. Of the journey through it. The Vigors. The battles. I look at a scar on my hand which was the entry wound of a blade, sitting right near the tattooed initials "AD." I recall the arrival, the journey...the end. I had already been through Columbia.

 _"_ Elizabeth brought you back" says Rosalind, interrupting my reeling in of memories.

"At our request" adds Robert, not missing an opportunity to continue their tag team banter. "We needed a Booker who was wholly experienced with sorts like our 'Head of State' here."

There is that odd moniker again. "Who is that?" I ask.

"To best explain him, it is best to explain where you are. You and Elizabeth had experienced the different realms and dimensions bleeding into each other."

"Such traffic can be hazardous and requires some sort of governing."

"Not politically of course."

"Comstock was evidence of that."

"Indeed. WAS."

"But a physical governing..."

"So we engineered a dam. What better way to stop a tide?"

"And that is where you are now. All dimensions have their nexus points."

"And here is the dam that stops them in their paths and ensures the dimensions stay amongst their own."

"But they haven't" I infer. "Elizabeth was able to reach into so many others. I saw times crossing over. I..saw, though one of her tears, Paris in the 1980s while we were both in Columbia!"

"That is a problem created by this Head of State. You see, when we engineered the building we needed to commission someone to build it. We appointed someone with experiences encountered the rifts in dimensions to complete the project."

"They did a superb job with the construction."

"Until they decided they didn't want to stop the dimensions from colliding with each other."

"With all of them convening here, the temptation was very literally at his fingertips."

"He had given himself the title of 'Head of State.'"

"The so-called 'State' he is referring to would be the united single state of all the dimensions. Existing solely at this dam."

I start to piece this together "So when I see that sign from 1959?..."

"It is because he brought it here" says Robert. Neither of them have broken from that nearly smug mien they maintain when speaking. It is as if the concerns they address to me do not actually concern them at all. "There are fragmented pieces from all sorts of times being added to the construction."

"And they can't be stopped?" I ask.

"Of course they can."

"Which is why we have you."

"You are a perfect candidate to confront him."

"It may not even have to be a bloody confrontation."

"Heavens, no."

My concerns are still apparent "And what about Elizabeth?"

"Your Elizabeth is fine" Rosalind says without blinking. "She is back when she came from."

"The others do find their way here."

"From time.."

"...to time."

I suppose this cryptic reassurance is the best I could likely hope for from these two. Like always, the next phase is figuring out how to get out.

"So where am I now?" I ask.

"Near the foundation."

"And the exit is up top I assume?"

"Naturally. It breeches the water once high enough" Rosalind says while the twins start walking away. She holds her hand back slightly, in a gesture meant to lure me to follow. It works.

"How tall is this dam? How high up does it go" I ask just as I am lead around a corner.

"For generations Booker" Robert tells me as I stare upwards. The structure stretches further than my eyes can process. There is a series of passage ways that connect many columns of enormous stone that make up this dam. The walls would, stretching miles high, classify as a Wonder of the World, if they were stationary in one world, and not locked in-between all possible worlds. I cannot help but be a bit captured in awe as I take it all in.

"Dare I ask who the Head of State is?" I ask, my headache from earlier still not subsiding.

"A renegade" says Robert. "A man who is lording over those who maintain this dam."

"And wishes only to rule over the many dimensions."

"How do I find him?"

"He never leaves the core. The area where the first pillars where installed when this place was first built."

"And what exactly am I getting for helping with this?"

 _You give us a day, we offer you a day in return._

 _ **Part Three**_

It was not hard to find signs that could direct me. This place may seem initially to be a chaotic mishmash of other realms, but someone is keeping a sense of order here.

 _THE PILLARS OF THE EARTH..._ I see tagged as graffiti on a wall. _MADE OF STONE..._ I head to stairway. _OR MADE OF SALT?_ Even those wishing to vandalize this place are being helpful in guiding me.

The stairwell is stone. Almost seems medieval. It is lit with electric lights. As I descend the stairs themselves go from stone to metal. Once on the metal steps, they are no longer bordered by stone walls either. It has become a spiral staircase. I am offered a greater glimpse of this portion of Rapture that has been brought into the nexus realm of the Dam. There are many glowing signs. There is a large building that looks like an enormous apartment building with a stone face placed on its side like a decorative gargoyle, only five times the size of any gargoyle I have ever seen. The stone man's face is unfamiliar to me. He has a stern look. Must be one of the founders. Seems no matter what dimension this Head of State draws from, there is no shortage of grandiose, narcissism. Could that be the Head of State? Seems like something a man aspiring to conquer multiple dimensions would commission. I suppose it won't matter if I recognize him when I see him...he will likely make a show of his presence.

The stairs end at a catwalk. From this vantage point I can get a great view of numerous portions of other worlds that have been compiled to create this dam. I recognize portions of Columbia, I can even make out a bit of the War Museum they had there. I see more signs from this Rapture place the Twins spoke of. I also observe portions from places I have never seen before, perhaps also from times I have never lived in. I cannot help but wonder how so many open areas can exist inside of a dam. I would imagine a dam would be built to be fortified, and not hollow at any point. Then again, this place may not be built to resist literal water, but instead it is altering the passages of other dimensions. This sort of meta-physical jargon is well outside my scope of knowledge. Probably best to not burden my thoughts with it. It can only lead to distraction when dangers are doubtlessly roaming these parts.

"Quite the sight ain't it" says a voice, possibly fulfilling my prediction of danger eerily on cue. I turn towards it and see a man of small stature in light brown work clothes. He doesn't look like someone who would pose a threat, but I've learned to be especially untrusting of appearances. I rest my left hand on the pistol holstered at my hip. It is a bit more conspicuous with my vest now gone. If he wanted to have the drop on me, seems he could have taken it, but didn't. I still keep my fingers ready at the pistol.

"Nothin' like it" I say. Commencing small-talk in this type of place feels just as uncanny as the Dam itself.

The small man turns to look at me. He wipes his nose on his sleeve. He has a black moustache that matches his dark, thinning hair. This hair has just enough pomade in it to be combed into a hard, sideways wing-shape, that manages to cover the early bits of baldness that are forming. He is wearing a tool belt of sorts that is only loaded on the right side. When we face each other, his wrench mirrors the location of my pistol.

"Weeeeell, guess you'll be wanting to see the Boss" says the man who I assume is named Mackenzie, since I see that printed on a tag on his shirt.

"What makes you say that?"

"Face like yours...that's the face of a man wanting to see the bossman."

I know better than to try and decipher the cryptic manner of speaking people tend to use in these parts "What should I call you?"

"Name's Mackenzie."

"That a first or last name?"

"I figure it don't mean much. You say 'Mackenzie' and you'll have my attention." And with that he starts to move away from me on the catwalk. "Best come this way. You already know where the other way goes."

 _Or WHEN it goes._

I follow. The catwalk passes another stairway but we do not take it. We continue until we come across a platform that leads to, what looks like, a large dumbwaiter. Mackenzie wipes his nose on his sleeve again.

"This can take us both down, but only a couple levels.'

"How far down am I supposed to go?"

"To see the Boss man?"

"That's the, er, Head of State?"

"Yeah, but of all people I shouldn't have ta be telling YOU that."

"What's that...?"

"Step in. We both take it. The switch is inside." Before I can take his direction, Mackenzie steps into the lift. He grabs a panel that is dangling on a large wire. It has two large buttons. It doesn't take an engineer to deduce that one means Up and the other is Down. I join Mackenzie and before I finish my movement he has pressed the lower button (logically, the "down" one) and we proceed to be lowered at a slow pace by the creaking metal cage that is this low-grade elevator device.

I can hear a voice as we get lower. I cannot make out distinct words as the straining sounds of the lift are distorting them. For all of the many big structures, bright lights and open areas, there is no visible activity from other people. Aside from Mackenzie, the only people I have seen are the dead ones at the higher level where I first awoke.

Almost perfectly in sequence with this thought I have, Mackenzie speaks: "Not a lot of folks up and about today."

"Are there a lot of people at this dam? Do folks work here?"

"A lot get up to a lot of things here." He wipes his nose on his sleeve. There is the sound of metal clanking against metal. It is not coming from the lift. At least, I initially assume it isn't.

"Is that the...?"

"No she holding steady" says Mackenzie, in response to a question I didn't even ask yet. CLACK CLACK. Metal on metal. It doesn't have the hollow sound of a pipe. CLACK CLACK. The lift gets lower. CLACK CLACK. I hear a voice. Same tone as before. I still cannot make out what it is saying. CLACK CLACK. The metal is a touch louder. Or at least clearer in my ear. I'm focused on it. CLACK. Only one sound. Sharper. More aggressive. CLACK! I'm convinced now that this is being made by a person. At first I thought it was the sound of pipes when they expand in heat. CLACK! This is too dull. CLACK! But very hard. CLACK! The lift nears the bottom of it's descending path. CLACK! The lift reaches the bottom. It lets out its own jumble of metal creaks and whines. CLACK CLACK. The sound returns once the lift stops making noise. It isn't as aggressive sounding as it once was. CLACK CLACK. Mackenzie exits first. He looks concerned.

"Best we get to a room" He says, looking towards a dark building that has a large red cross out front. The words STONE OR SALT? painted on it's wall right at it's end, just before it curls into an alleyway of some kind.

"Inside there?"

"No, that's the place we wanna keep away from" Mackenzie tells me before we hear another CLACK CLACK. Now I can tell it is emitting from the alleyway near the vandal's paint job.

"Ok. You know best. Where to?" I ask. CLACK CLACK.

"Right here." Mackenzie then points to a building immediately to our left. It appears to have been a toy store at some point in time.

 _Or place._

We move towards the entrance door, both keeping a watch of the area the sound seems to be coming from. CLACK CLACK. We get to the doorway and the door opens with nary a sound or trouble. CLACK CLACK. The sound doesn't seem as distant. In fact, it sounds -CLACK CLACK- like we have just moved in proximity of it. I scan my eyes over various dolls mounted on the walls. This place was amply stocked before it was abandoned. Their eyes all seem to be fixed on me. The light is dim but I can make that much out. As my eyes move from one end of the row of toys to the other, I only see one patch of darkness. This space where I cannot see any shapes suddenly makes a determined 'CLACK CLACK' sound. The darkness moves and comes visible in the light. It is a woman, or it mostly is. Her head is entirely wrapped in bandages, with a sort of vice on it; like something a doctor may use for a spine injury. Her arms are similarly locked into some sort of vice-style devices. They are steel with very little shimmer left in their grey-silver tone. From them protrudes rusty, edged portions. Not enough finesse to call them swords, but I could still call them blades. They look like they were attached to a larger portion but snapped at their rustiest points. The length of each metal shard is different for each arm. She is wearing a formal white dress. It likely had an enormous skirt portion but that has long been lost. There are many tears in the fabric. She shuffles forward. CLACK CLACK she taps the two blades on her arms together. We stand still. I hear a sniff. Mackenzie's moustache is twitching. The face (or where the face should be) of the woman aims at Mackenzie. CLACK CLACK. He wipes his nose on his sleeve. She lunges at him. Mackenzie ducks out of the way of her slashing motion. It is not graceful, but saving one's own hide never has to be. I grab him off the ground and hurl us both out the door again. As we exit I can hear the CLACK CLACK behind us. We start to jog away but hear CLACK CLACK sounds coming from the direction we were avoiding in the first place. Another bandaged woman rounds the alleyway corner and directs her faceless gaze upon us. CLACK! She slams her own two blades together. I can see bits of rust and dust rise off them under the street light that illuminates her.

"I think we outta go back up another level" suggests Mackenzie.

"I have my pistol" I tell/remind Mackenzie (I assume he saw it very clearly when we met).

"That thing hold many bullets?"

"Eight in there right now"

"Unless you can guarantee you get them in the head with at least a couple, I suggest we leave."

Right now the conservative option does sound better. This is not a situation where wasting bullets equals heroism. We hustle back to the lift. CLACK CLACK. The heavy thumping of our running clearly grabs their attention. CLACK CLACK. Both are aiming their heads towards us and are moving at a jogging pace. We get to the lift with plenty of time for Mackenzie to turn it on and raise us out of their swinging range. When they get to the area below us, they do not clack. They know where we are. They seem to be waiting.

"Dare I ask what those were?" I ask of Mackenzie.

"Oh, one of the many lovelies round these parts." He peers down at them "Yup." He takes near-death experiences with an admirable attitude of workaday boredom.

"Right. Good. I didn't want this to be easy anyhow."

"It might yet be. We'll see."

"That's optimistic of you."

Mackenzie smiles. His moustache overtakes his lips. "Well i figure a place like this could use some optimism. Glass half full and all that"

"Of what?"

"Boy, for a fella that has seen these places before, you sure ask a lot of questions."

"But I've only ever been to..."

The lift stops suddenly. The jolt catches me off guard. What did Mackenzie mean by that statement? Sure. I've seen Columbia. No way I can forget the visions I got from that place. And just like that, a familiar voice chimes in, echoing all the way from Columbia itself.

"I appreciate a lady who appreciates valuuuueee!" I turn to exit the lift and see the glow of a Dollar Bill vending machine. It's not exactly an unwelcome sight. I'll take this over a member of that Order of the Raven or whathaveyou. I examine my hands. They do not flare, but I think of the way the feathers came out of them. The way that they had been mutated and returned to normality in so many instants. Is the rest of my existence going to be bouncing to and from states of uncanny and normal?

 _What is normal?_

 _When is normal?_

We both step towards the machine. Resting next to the shifting, animatronic-man is a gun. It has red tape wrapped around it. It's one of the Heater's used by the Vox of Columbia. I take it as a good omen. Not that I'm concerned that this area may have any of Columbia's soldiers, but I'd still rather have the feeling that the Vox are backing me here too. It's loaded. So either it's the greatest omen I've yet encountered, or it's a trap.

"Seems almost too good to be true, eh friend?" says Mackenzie whose pace was much more leisurely than mine, giving me a decent sized head start when we left the lift.

"I've learned something lately." I roll my shoulders back to correct my posture as I hold the gun in my hands "Never expect anything. More often than not you'll be surprised, and when you aren't, you probably didn't want what you expected anyhow."

"So we're pressing onwards then?"

"Why are you helping me?"

"There you go with questions again. Sheesh."

"It's a fair one. Do you work...somewhere?"

"Guess so."

"You aren't sure?"

"Sure I do. Someone has to right? I mean, a place like this...things are bound to break down when they ain't outta."

"You're a repairman?"

Mackenzie taps his wrench "This here ain't for bonking monsters on the head, Booker."

 _Did he use your name yet?_

"Fair enough."

"Say.." Mackenzie pulls a small pouch out from his belt "you chew tobacco."

"No thanks."

"Oh. Ain't mine. You can take it if you like. I just found this full bag and figured it was a waste to leave it lying around."

"I don't chew. Plus, I wouldn't be inclined to put things I find in this place in my mouth, even if I knew the exact source."

Mackenzie waves a finger at me, "Smart!" he says and then tosses the bag over the edge of our landing. I look down as it hits the level below us. CLACK CLACK I hear as a response. I look up and see the cat walk where we met. I then look to Mackenzie.

"After you"

"Sure thing, sir" he says as he scoots past me and we move on. From behind us I hear:

"I appreciate a lady who appreciates valuuuueee!"

 _ **Part Four**_

 _IS THERE A CRACK IN THE FOUNDATION?_ Asks some anonymous individual by way of more graffiti painted on a stone wall.

"Do we still need to get down to that level with the toy store and the...whatever they are?" I ask Mackenzie.

"Naw, we're just taking a more scenic route."

"Perfect. Because more of this place is exactly what I need."

"Glass half full, sir, glass half full. Instead of a short story, you're getting the novel."

"I promise you Mackenzie, this will not be a novel." Mackenzie and I smirk in tandem. We continue walking. We pass by the graffiti I read earlier.

"They make you clean this up?"

Mackenzie doesn't even look up at it "What would be the point? Who's gonna read it anyhow?" His remark gives me pause for a second. Then I decide to not wonder too much about it and press on.

The corridor we have entered is completely contained, a wall and ceiling made from a mixture of stone and wood. The craftsmanship is on par with the level of sophistication I had seen in the floating city of Columbia. For being just a regular hallway, it had a formal air to it; like I was proceeding to the chambers of a judge or a senator. The door is the nicest portion. It is made from maple wood, if I'm not mistaken, with a marvellous finish.

"Beaut isn't it?" says Mackenzie, as he places a key into its lock.

"You read my mind" I tell him.

 _Your mind is an open book in this place._

 _Would that be a short story or a novel?_

Mackenzie opens the door. It seems to lead to an office. There are three doors, including the one we just passed through. If the first door made a promise of prestige, the interior delivered. Burgundy leather chairs, tall shelves of seemingly untouched books, a wide wooden desk lit with a pair of glass covered lamps, and the finest feature this room has to offer: Elizabeth. Or least, some version of Elizabeth. This one does resemble mine but is carrying herself in a totally different manner. She is dressed in a white shirt with a large black collar and wavy shoulder-length hair. Plus she is smoking. Literally smoking that is.

She takes a drag from her cigarette and raises an eyebrow at me, creating a look that would make most men quit their jobs and moves 5 States over just to see it again. But knowing what I know about Elizabeth, I keep my cool without effort.

As smoke exits her nostrils she speaks "Well that confirms it. I must have the wrong office if I've found the wrong Booker."

"You're looking for me?" I ask her.

"Not exactly" she says, then seats herself into one of the leather chairs. The leather accepts her with a moan of approval. "I'm looking for a private dick whose office is supposed to be around these parts. Know of any dicks like that?" She crosses her legs and the leather moans again.

"No, I'm just a visitor here."

"Then how'd you'd get into a locked room?"

"How did you?"

She takes another drag from her cigarette "very good, you sure you aren't a detective?" She exhales then extinguishes the cigarette in an ashtray mounted atop a stand that resembles a hand-carved table leg.

Mackenzie steps forward "I know the office you're looking for. You aren't far from it."

"Are you the custodian here?"

"Sure thing" he tells her then discreetly winks at me. I have no idea what on Earth this wink meant to mean.

"Ok, where am I supposed to go?" she asks then stands up. As she does so, the leather of the chair groans, almost like it is lamenting her absence already.

"That door right there," Mackenzie says, gesturing to the door that is to her right (our left) "it goes to hall that takes you across four other rooms. The very last one is the office you want."

"Thanks" this version of Elizabeth says, then moves to the door.

"Need a hand?" I offer.

"I made it all the way here without help. I doubt I'll need it now."

"It's a safe passage" Mackenzie says to reassure me, more so than her. "Plus we're going thaddaway." He points to the third door in this room.

(This) Elizabeth takes out a fresh cigarette "I don't suppose either of you boys can offer me a light before I leave?" I walk over without hesitating. She puts the cigarette to her lips and I raise my hand to its end. A small patch of fire ignites from my thumb (courtesy of the lingering effects of the Vigor). Her cigarette is lit.

"Now what?" She asks. "Do I blow?"

I palm my thumb, taking out the flame.

"Good luck with getting to where you're going fellas" she says as she opens the door. "It's too bad you aren't the Booker I'm looking for." She leaves, closing the door behind her. I feel something drop in my stomach. It's the first true bit of discomfort I've felt since getting here. Even the faceless women with blades for arms didn't do this to me.

"Guess that's our cue too" says Mackenzie. He opens up the third door then waits for me. "Right this way, sir"

 _He doesn't have to call you "Sir"_

"You know, you don't have to call me 'Sir,' Mackenzie" I tell him.

"What am I supposed to call you then?"

"Well my name is Booker."

"Naaah, that'd just be causing confusion. Shouldn'ta done it before. Think I'll just stick with what feels right in the moment."

"Ok then."

We leave the room and Mackenzie locks the door behind us.

"Can't just have anybody coming into here y'know?"

No...I don't.

 _ **Part Five**_

 _Did I remember to set an alarm?_

"She didn't seem all that concerned about my gun" I remark to Mackenzie.

"Not to knock down any confidence you may have placed in the tough-guy persona you present, but you're hardly the most intimidating thing round these parts" he says, not hurting my confidence.

"Heh, I can believe that." I pat my hand around my pockets, surveying what I have available to me. I find a pack of cigarettes that's three quarters full. Had I known they were there, I would have offered one to Elizabeth...THAT Elizabeth that is. The one whose hair was wavy and lips were...I stop my thought train right there lest I summon back that monumental feeling of discomfort I had just start to get over when we left the room. I find a distraction by asking Mackenzie "Say, do you smoke?"

"Why? Need one?"

"No, I was about to offer one to you."

"Well, I don't too often, but I feel like I'm about to" he says before stopping his steps and turning to accept the cigarette I've just pulled from the pack. Where did I get these cigarettes? Why does he prefer cigarettes to chewing tobacco? What else do I have hidden in these pockets? I stuff my hand into each while Mackenzie proceeds to light his cigarette with a match he grabbed from his own pocket.

"You didn't need me to?..." I start to ask.

"No thanks. Don't want you running out of fuel now do we?" he says then waves the match to extinguish it.

Nothing terribly abnormal are in my pockets. The only thing really worth noting is a coin that seems American, but I cannot place it's currency value or origin. A man's face is printed on it, but of nobody familiar to me. There is some black tarnish on it, making me think that it is made of silver.

 _A tiny silver mirror._

I do not bother to examine the etchings on it as my attention turns to a pair of watches I have found in my shirt's breast pocket. They are set to two different times. I cannot tell which would be considered 'current' at this Dam.

 _Isn't the purpose of a Dam to stop the current?_

"You got the admission don't ya?" Mackenzie asks of me.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean" I tell him.

"Flip me the coin, if ya don't mind."

I look at the coin in my right hand (then the watches in my left) then say "sure." I flip the coin and he catches it in his free hand, without a blink or a flinch.

"I better put this out first" he says just before stomping out his cigarette. He then grabs a a large curtain of some sort that I had not noticed was near us. He pulls it aside to reveal a large door. It seems to be guarded by a mechanical man, very similar to the Dollar Bill vending machine. It is dark. There seems to be no electricity running into it. Mackenzie takes the mysterious coin I had just tossed to him and slides it into a slot below the dormant machine-man. I can here the clanks and jangles of it working down into the mechanism that ends in a ringing bell chime. This tone awakens the machine. Lights flicker on all around it.

The machine's voice comes creakily through a frayed speaker: "I'll tip my hat and hope you enjoy your night," the machine-man grips and takes off it's metal hat, "as I welcome you all to Jackpot Lights!" And at that cue a door opens itself. The interior is a bit anti-climatic considering the greeting we just received. It appears to be, what once was, some sort of parlour and arcade. There are dormant game machines lined against walls and bars, each with large signs with names odd titles like Drop the Piglet, Sweep the Sea, and Sew the Button. Something tells me the latter of these games would be the least entertaining.

"Head of State thought all the folks coming through these parts would appreciate a bit of entertainment. Got this place. Got a theatre...hard to keep actors around though. Not sure if that plan was exactly thought through" explains Mackenzie.

"So this place isn't from somewhere else? I mean, it didn't come from another time. Another..."

"You got it" says Mackenzie, saving me from over thinking it. "The theatre is, I guess you'd say adjacent to it. Is that the word?"

"Is it next to this room?"

"Not exactly."

"Then probably, yeah."

There is something eery about an entertainment facility sitting in silence. It must be the uncanny feeling one gets knowing that the majority of the time, places like these are buzzing with more noises and sounds than one can process all at once. The stillness is all the more apparent because of this, when it would otherwise go unnoticed. I clutch the shotgun in a defensive reflex because of this feeling that is nothing more than just a feeling; nothing has logically triggered my unease here. I scan the area and things remain ever-still. It is very dark. As I look around things almost seem to be black and white for a moment, but that cannot be so. I notice this sensation returns again but now accompanied by a sound. It sounds like half of a musical note. I see a flicker of light out of the corner of my eye that blinks in time with this very brief sound that I hear. This pattern repeats again: Black and white vision, half a note, blink of light. All of these occur in less than a second of each other. Again: Black and white, half a note, blink of light.

Mackenzie approaches me and says "this ain't a good sign." Black and white, half a note, blink of light. "That looks like a hiccup" he says, now looking very alarmed.

Black and white, half a note, blink of light. This time around, another sound joins in but is very much out of time with this pattern: CLACK! CLACK!

The familiar, metallic sound of the blinded, bladed women we encountered at the lower level. CLACK CLACK. CLACK CLACK. Their signature sound seems to be echoing itself now.

Black and white, CLACK, half a note, blink of light, CLACK!

I now see one walking around the far edge of the arcade.

"What do you mean a 'hiccup?' " I ask him.

"It happens sometimes." We both duck down behind a large Sew the Button machine before the next sound off of CLACK CLACK (the machine seems overly large to me, but what do I know about these types of arcade attractions?) "Ever get deja vu? It's sort of like that."

"How do you mean?" in a lower voice, which makes me think to advise Mackenzie to do the same, though it should be the logical thing to do already. "We have to keep quiet and also not move around much."

"Yeah. Don't want them hearing us."

"I suspect it's more than that" I say in a whisper then stop Mackenzie from wiping his nose on his sleeve again. "I'm starting to suspect that these...things are bashing their blades together as a way of seeing us."

"They ain't got eyes."

"Shh"

He repeats in a whisper "Their eyes. S'all bandaged over."

CLACK CLACK

"That" I point out, "they're doing that to see us I think. It's the same things Bats do. A friend of mine explained this sort of thing to me. Canuck fella I knew in Boston. Name's Reginald. After Titanic they found a way for ships to send out sounds and those sound waves bounce off objects that might be in the way."

"You said to be quiet, now you're gonna do a science lecture?"

"I'm saying they send out sounds with their blades, and if we move, the sound waves hit us. They know where we are. Reggie called it 'echo locate.'"

"Fascinating professor."

"Now your turn."

"Wha?"

CLACK CLACK

"Explain the so-called 'hiccups' to me."

"No time friend!" Mackenzie says, breaking our whispering. He grabs my shoulder and turns me so that I can see a blade being raised up by a mutilated female arm. It rises to the side of the game machine. I raise my shotgun and fire at it. The blast severs the blade, leaving just a grey and red stump where an arm should be. A ghoulish woman steps back slightly and lets out a screech that sounds like is coming from a big, hollow cave. I cannot discern a mouth on her facial area. I stand and do not allow this thing to stop stumbling backwards before I shoot it again, this time in her chest. She falls onto her back and lays still.

"Ok. They know where we are. I think I have enough shells to handle this. There were only two downstairs. Can there be many more?"

"That's the thing, these hiccups will be bringing more."

I survey the area in search of more of these things and notice the sequence of black and white, half a note, and a blink of light continues.

"That" I point out to Mackenzie "is that one of them?"

"A nurse?"

"A hiccup."

Black and white, half a note, blink of light.

"Yeah," he confirms "that's going to be bringing them in I figure. Happens a lot at the Dam. It's a bit of another time, another place, flickering into the Dam. The more unstable the Head of State makes it, the more often they occur."

Black and white, half a note, blink of light.

"Then maybe that spot is a hole needing to be plugged" I say, referring to the area where I see the light flicker in and out. We start to move towards it and another of the women CLACKs her way around a row of machines and aims herself towards us. Two blasts from my shotgun ensure it is a very brief encounter. We find the source of the fleeting light and brief sound. It is another machine, but not from this arcade. As the "hiccup" occurs again I hear the partial musical note of the machine and it's carnival setting. I cannot see a name on it. The room it is from looks rotted. I can smell an unmistakable whiff of mould now that I am in close proximity to the source. I also notice, in my peripheral vision that this one spot is not the only one "hiccuping" up images, sounds and smells from another dimension. There are a few patches at this side of the arcade doing so. Much to mine and Mackenzie's alarm, one of the holes seems to be burping up an identical copy of the two bladed women every time it flickers into our plane of existence.

"Ok, Mackenzie. I don't think I'll have enough ammo after all." One of them needs none of it's CLACKs to find us. It charges, blades waving in a suitably ungraceful fashion. It howls as its implements swing, sometimes grazing her own legs and machines around her. This one is finished in one blast from the gun. Accuracy will help but not save us. We need a way to escape.

"We can get out if we hang a hard right and go out through the theatre" says Mackenzie, once again leaping upon my thought train.

"That beats out my current plan."

"Which is?"

Another monster howls her hollow scream and charges at me up until I blast the top of her head off with the shotgun.

"That. Over and over until I convert this gun into a club."

"Alrighty. Let's give my plan a go then." Mackenzie then guides me away from the machines, towards large double doors that reach at least ten feet in height. "Spare one shell for the lock?"

"Nah, may need it." I hand him the shotgun, "one sec, I think I have enough energy for one more."

"One more what?"

I shove my hands forward and a huge gust of air rushes from them, courtesy of Vigor and the Fink Manufacturing company, and pulverizes door's lock.

"Ah," exclaims Mackenzie "one of THOSE."

The sound of the wood snapping is more than enough to bring more bladed ladies our way.

I hold out my hand to Mackenzie, "may I?"

"By all means" he says, politely, as he hands back the shotgun.

 _YOUR Shotgun. You stopped calling it "your" shotgun._

This time three of them charge at us in a very rough V formation, like a psychotic flock of Geese. I start firing and backing up. I'm pulling the trigger from a further range than the previous shots I took. The bullet spray is not as effective. I'm forced to unload everything in the shotgun, as well as one blast of flame from my palm to stop their rush.

"Guess you had one last after all" (semi) jokes Mackenzie.

"Yeah well, not sure if there's any more left in me or this" I say as I examine the empty chamber of the shotgun. "Ever if there were, I'd need a bit of time to reload. Is there any place we can hide in there?"

We enter the theatre. The word "grandiose" re-enters my brain is it searched for a word to describe it, and I do not bother to cook up a more apt term. There are three sets of row seating with two levels of balconies looming over them. The stage is the largest I have ever seen, even in pictures. Mackenzie does not need to answer me. There is little to no places to seek shelter without covering a very large amount of open ground where we can be spotted. And crawling behind seats seems like a great way to get found and killed in a humiliating position. I hear a large series of CLACKs from behind us.

"You already know the answer, sir"

"Ok. So we do things on the fly. Let's keep moving. Where to?"

Mackenzie points to the stage "Backstage. I mean, you are the talent aren't you?" He is maintaining an odd sense of humour throughout this ordeal.

 _You are the talent._

 _What a keen observation._

 _Do remember to take a bow._

 _The Curtain Calls._

We jog towards to stage. We pass a sign that reads " _The Time is Not Yet Ripe_! Hilarious new Comedy from Australia!" The stage is decorated with podiums and mock campaign banners. I score three shells from my pocket and jam them into the gun as we go. The CLACKs draw nearer. We reach the stage and I hop up onto it. As I lean down to help Mackenzie climb up I notice CLACKing sounds are coming from all sorts of directions now. We both look around.

"Oh dear" says Mackenzie in a humourless tone, "I guess they found the other entry doors."

"How many doors are there to...?" I'm interrupted when a gaggle of these bladed ghouls burst into the theatre, surrounding my vision. I roughly count 16 (bandaged) heads before reaching down down for Mackenzie again.

As I pull him up I start yelling "a crawl space? A hatch? Anything around here we can use to slip away?!"

 _I believe they call this Deus Ex Machina._

Before Mackenzie can offer any sort of reply we both hear a load growl. Hollow like the CLACKing women's voices, but with a depth of tone well beyond anything I've heard here (or anywhere). Almost like it came from a whale, or some other leviathan from the ocean depths.

"Either our problems are about to solve themselves, or they're about to get a heck of a lot worse" Mackenzie tells me.

Signalled by another deep groan, an enormous man in a diver's suit smashes through a stage backdrop depicting a city street corner **.** I use the term "man" when I should have immediately said "monster." This behemoth is wielding some form of pneumatic drill in place of his right arm. It is large like the Handymen of Columbia, only more inhuman.

"When will we know which it is?" The big crash it made was more than enough to draw the focus of the CLACKing women. "Ok, I'm getting a bit more optimistic." I ready the shotgun as the horde reaches the stage but hold my fire as they start whizzing past us and begin swinging their blades against the behemoth's illuminated helmet. It bellows as it starts up its drill and begins to eviscerate the bladed fiends left and right. The fight shifts over to stage left. The monster-sized hole our champion had created sits wide open in the backdrop.

"Shall we?" Mackenzie asks, rhetorically. We move towards it but I do not lower my defences, and rightfully so. Not all of the CLACKing women target the behemoth. I use two of my three shots clearing our path of blade-waving enemies.

"Straight on through?" I ask Mackenzie.

"To the other side? Yes. I believe this is called Stage Exeunt, sir" he replies. We go backstage. Behind us I hear CLACK CLACK CLACK as rusty blades fall upon metal. Followed by the horrible whirling sound of a drill carving through flesh.

We are in darkness. I use a small Vigor induced flame from my hand to light our surroundings. Mackenzie and I navigate out of the backstage area down into a corridor that consists only of walls and water pipes.

"Was that a friend of yours?" I ask Mackenzie.

"Oh Heavens no, sir. Those are some big fellas the Head of State brought in from some special area. Ain't exactly sure where. But they were awful useful in drilling holes in the sea bed to help build the pikes that would form the foundation of this whole Dam."

 _Is there a crack in the Foundation?_

 _The Pillars of the Earth, made of stone or salt?_

"They helped build this place?"

"They were crucial."

"Are they human?"

"After the Dam was completed they served no practical use to the Head of State, nor could he be rid of them if he wanted to. Without their labours they were adrift in the Dam. If they couldn't build, they would destroy."

"The Dam?"

"The residents, as our friend demonstrated back at the theatre. They are listless and angry."

"Civilization built on the back of Slaves. Sounds familiar. I don't blame them for their anger. Whatever they are."

Mackenzie found a switch and sparked life into several lights lining the corridor ceiling and I ask him "So we went to the bottom, then back up, now we're going back downwards again?"

"Sometimes 'up' and 'down' can be as lofty a concept as 'where' and 'when' in this place. But to answer you simply, yes we are."

"You haven't exactly steered me wrong yet Mac"

"Well 'right' and 'wrong' can be as lofty a concept as..."

"Yeah I catch the drift."

As we get closer to what seems to be the end of this tunnel, I see a flickering start up; not unlike the flickering we had witnessed in the arcade area that lead to another reality.

"Are we sure we want to go towards that?" I ask Mackenzie.

"I'm...not..." The flickering's pace intensifies as we stare, questioning our next moves.

"Mac, I think we gotta.." I am interrupted by the flickering encompassing the entire corridor. All at once I could see myself and Mackenzie, plus myself and Mackenzie, plus myself and Mackenzie, and so on, repeated an amount of times I could not count for my mind was too rattled by the sudden consciousness of a dozen of my own minds sharing a single moment of panic as we all plummeted through the flickering rings of realities being shared. The corridor has become a chain of all realities. All of us falling forward, towards each other, and in the same direction all at once. All of our senses were taking in the unique sounds, smells, and sights of our realities standing apart from each other but all existing as one single sensation. I(we) had traveled into other realities before with Elizabeth, but this was something else. This was everything that we have ever been. And all of it falling. Falling into what? The question was answered by darkness. Not for one, for all...as one.

 _ **Part Six**_

I hear a voice. It is asking me a question. I can tell by the inflection of its tone. The voice is very familiar. I know their manner of speech so well. They ask me: "Did I remember to set an alarm?" Who is asking me this? And better question: why? If I want an answer, I better stop wasting time asking myself these questions. I open my eyes. Mackenzie is not here. It was not him who was asking. Not that I suspected it. It was a voice I'm far more familiar with. But who?

"I suppose you aren't used to hearing me ask that question are you?" asks this incredibly familiar voice that I somehow cannot identify. I scan the area I'm in. Part of it seems to be an office, with some chairs, a desk and bookshelves around. The rest appears a bit like a maintenance room, with a large furnace operating in the corner, and several dials and switches mounted near it on a wall; all of whom I cannot possibly begin to understand their functions.

"Who is that?" I ask. I suppose starting with the basics is the best route to go with my questioning.

"It was both of us Booker" says a man walking towards me from a darkened corner of the room. As my eyes adjust better I can see that I'm looking into some kind of mirror. Only the mirror is not mimicking my actions, but instead has made some sort of doppelganger that dresses far more formally than I ever have. I feel like my eyes are tricking me. I feel this so genuinely that I literally search the area for the frame of this odd mirror. It cannot be found...and yet here I am staring at ME.

"A bit rattling, I know" says the other me, who is dressed in a suit you might see on an aristocrat. It is purple, with a high waist to the pants and coat combo. His hair is ever-so perfectly combed, matching the outfit's presentation to a tee. He sports a small, clean moustache I've never dared to grow.

"Who are you?" I ask...me?

"Well, the most obvious answer is that I am you Booker. But the answer I think you'll find far more interesting is that I am this 'Head of State' you have been hearing so much about lately."

He was correct. The second response was much more jarring to me. I try to speak but can only muster vague vowel sounds, all starting with the letter "W."

The well-dressed, Head of State Me puts his hands out in a gesture of reassurance. "Do not be startled Booker. I know you've already had a bad experience with our cohort, Comstock. I can assure you this is nothing like that at all. See, I know you've been looking for me. I always knew you'd be coming. You and I are synchronized with this place. With the Dam. How else do you think you awoke so peacefully here when you first arrived? Or just now? Or even how you found me so readily? Like a pair of watches running on different timezones, you and I match our cadence, even when in different places."

"I really don't understand" I tell him (me) with sincerity, while feeling for the two watches I had found earlier in my shirt pocket.

"You soon will Booker. Oh, and to answer a question you had asked a while earlier, your vest is here and it's fine." He then goes over to his desk and resting on it is my vest, which he grabs and brings over to me. It seems to be in tact. How he retrieved it from the Songbird I may never know.

"So, you've been watching me all this time somehow?"

"Truth be told, it's a lot more like _listening_. I can hear what is happening in your head Booker, because it is also my head. So I know when you got here, I know Mackenzie has been helping, bless him, and I know that those two Twins have been rattling up there too with their cryptic phrases and riddles."

"You mean...like.."

"Like about the alarm?"

"Yes!"

"See, now the Twins can't get into our heads in this particular space. This is my office and it has no placement in any realm but its own. They cannot get their words into here like they can so easily out there. And that pesky question will get answered in due time. Ah yes, time! That's another thing we should discuss!"

I put on my old vest and feel a headache coming on.

"I know the Twins sent you here on a mission to stop me from doing whatever it is they think I'm doing."

"Something about merging the realms into one United State that you control."

"Ha! A more inaccurate assumption I have never heard! No no no, I am not looking to rule anything, but I have been searching for some degree of control."

Hearing me say these kinds of things is unnerving to a degree I cannot measure. I subtly search for my handgun. It is gone.

"I know you are concerned right now" says Head of State me. "Please allow me to explain things further. You see, you and I are a part of a group. All members of this group are some form of "Booker." Each is crucial in maintaining much of the balance in numerous places and times. All have their necessary components to complete our missions. Even pieces that seem a little odd at first." He takes out a capsule. He takes off the lid then places a bit of the balm within it on his pinky finger then rubs it on his lips before continuing. "The reason I am here, in this place..." He raises his hands up, hoping I will take in the enormity of the Dam "...is to ensure that the realms are never closed off to each other. I am existing outside of all time to ensure that a Booker like you can have gone to a place like Columbia, for example, and do what you did there. It's the same reason I wanted you to come here."

"You wanted me to?"

"Of course. Only I could understand me...which I hope you do."

I like to think I am starting to.

"I am not here for anything nefarious. I am here to keep us fighting. To keep us moving. Like yourself, I helped Elizabeth discover her powers so that she could help you. I had residents of the Dam spread word of my so-called 'governing' of the realms so that the Twins may notice and assign you to find me."

"But why did you want me to find you?"

"So that you get a little bit more, Booker."

"A little bit more what?"

"Time" he says with a glisten appearing in his eyes that can only mean tears. "I am you Booker. But I am confined to this place. I know what happened after the events at Columbia, I could not experience it as clearly as you did, but I experienced...something." The glisten does not leave his eyes, but tears do not come into fruition. "Call it selfish, but while I am here I wish to get some sort of vicarious joy from what others, like you, can experience. They offered you a reward for this mission did they not?"

"Yes. Something about, me spending a day on this, and they'll give me a day."

"Yeah..." his voice trails off for a second "yeah. Only I can truly give you that reward Booker. Only I have figured out how all this time can work. I'll never know why it was me, of all the Bookers that are out there, that got picked to be the one that stays here. But damned if it isn't me. I know it seems like such a complicated way of reaching out to you. But reaching outside of time itself to connect with yourself is no simple task"

"Nor a simple sentence."

"Ha ha! Very good. Very good.

"So there is no real mission then is there?"

"There was, and you did it. You found me. Now, I'm going to be staying here. For as long as time keeps crashing into this Dam, I'll be here. But you get to go back."

"Go back where?"

"Aha! I thought you'd know by now that the correct question to ask is 'when are you going back?'"

I see a flickering occurring at the border of a door to my far right.

"That's your exit, or as Mackenzie may say 'Your Exeunt'"

I wonder, "where is he by the way?"

"He's fine. Just gone back to work. Probably someplace, or some _time_ helping your ass again." His minor vulgarity made him feel a bit more like...me. It was comforting.

"So that is it? I just...leave?"

"Did you want a formal invitation to go back home?"

"But I..."

"Hey! Your heroics are done Booker. Go take that rest you earned."

I am compelled to use the flickering door. Hearing myself telling me to do so is fantastic motivation. I feel compelled to trust him. Should I? Look what happened with Comstock. That was also me. A me from a different time and place. Is that why he is now sending me away? Why was I disarmed if I am to trust him? Why did he have my vest?

"You're spending a lot of time asking questions Booker" I hear him say to me from back at his desk. "If you really want, you can stay and have all the time you require to understand it all. I am more than willing to share it. I make for good company. Ask Mackenzie, if you get the chance. But I already know what your decision is. Whether or not you trust me and what I say. We are of the same mind, Booker. I know."

I grab the handle of the glowing door and push it open.

"Wait," I exclaim in the doorway "what was that about an alarm?"

"Don't worry. I already set it. You don't want to miss this date. Oh, and here" the Head of State flips a coin at me which I catch. It is the silver coin I had used to access the arcade before, or at least a coin from the same minting. "I think they captured your jawline well."

As I ponder the coin his words strike me as I come to realize that it is my (our) face printed on this coin. I suppose that means it is a currency only available at the Dam, featuring the Head of State's portrait on it. Before I can make any comment about it, I am swallowed up by a ray of light from the doorway. Then it is darkness again. But somehow, I feel more comfortable in this darkness. I guess, the fact that I can presently feel anything is a good sign. I feel like I'm outside of time. None of my senses seem active but I can feel. That indefinable way that one can _feel_ about something. There is another me out there...somewhere outside of time. But he is working. Keeping tabs on each version of me that is running around with guns, and women and monsters, and all the odd combinations there-in. But me, the me that knows only ONE me...is comfortable. Comfortable in a way that cannot be defined aside from saying, I _feel_ it.

 **Part Seven**

Did I set my alarm clock? I guess I did, technically, since the other me said he did. But what is it? I hear an odd noise. Like a bird that is dying. I wake up. I am home. My true home. I look to the noise and see a small box emitting a screeching sound. It has glowing numbers that says 12:00. I grab it. There is writing all over it. Words like Time and Snooze. I have no idea what to make of it. I put it back down and the sound stops. I seem to have pressed down on a button sitting atop it. It still says 12:00. If it's a clock then I don't know if it is accurate. I examine it again. The bottom says the words "Sony, 1997" on it. Is that a code? I look over on my wall. I see a calendar. It is October 1893. I know this time very well. The dreaded Sunday on the 8th where I made the deal that cost me my daughter. Cost me Anna. I look again. The dates. They are only scratched off until Saturday. If it is noon I would hear church bells like I would every Sunday from the cathedral down the road from my apartment building. I hear nothing. Oct 8th was a Sunday!

Can it be?

I raise off my bed and rush over to window. Sun is high above all. High noon. I hear no Church bells. I look to the calendar again. It must be Saturday. It must be October 7th! Oct 7th 1893, the day BEFORE I was sent back from Columbia. I race over to Anna's room.

 _You give us a day, we offer you a day in return._

I look inside and see Anna sleeping. I suppose I have me, and me, to thank for this.

"Well, I'll be damned" I say.

THE END


End file.
